


From Despair To Where?

by anemic_cinema



Series: World's End Boyfriend [7]
Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Misogyny, Racism, bodily injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-14
Updated: 2013-11-14
Packaged: 2018-01-01 11:57:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1044556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anemic_cinema/pseuds/anemic_cinema
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU: No queers after the zombie apocalypse? I don't think so. Merle gets his just desserts, and Glenn and Daryl start to connect in a meaningful way. Content Warning: mention of a planned rape, bodily injury (chopped off hand), homophobic, misogynistic, and racist slurs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	From Despair To Where?

It had been a week. Glenn had been avoiding him at all costs for a goddamn, motherfucking week, and Daryl had no idea why. At first, he figured it was because of that stupid trip to the farmhouse. That Glenn was way more pissed about how Merle had acted towards him than he'd let on. So Daryl gave him space, tried not to bother him for anything, and limited himself to being civil at him whenever they had to be around each other. But even then, Glenn wouldn't even look his way, and it was a fucking miracle if he said more than two words to him..

The real kick to the gut was when he overheard Glenn asking Shane not to put him on watch with him. He hadn't meant to eavesdrop, but he'd been bringing some squirrel he'd butchered to Carol so she could cook it for dinner, and he'd spied Glenn talking to Shane at the edge of the woods.

“Look, I'm not asking for a whole lot here, just don't make me be on watch with Daryl.” Glenn looked uncomfortable and nervous.

“I don't understand, I thought y'all were cool with each other.”

“Shane, please, just do this one favor for me ok? I don't want to be on watch with Daryl.”

“Fine, whatever.” Shane shrugged, like it didn't matter to him one way or another.

Hearing that made him feel cold and numb. Worse, it made him feel stupid. Of course Glenn didn't want to be around him. He'd been an idiot to even think otherwise. There was no way someone like Glenn would ever really be his friend, or give two fucks about him, or think he was anything other than a lousy piece of white trash. Standing there, holding squirrel meat he'd wrapped up in wax paper, he felt like the world's biggest fool. Because only a fool would let anyone hurt them. 

He stalked off to the Peletier’s tent. Carol was sitting with Sophia, helping her with some coloring. He threw the meat on the ground in front of her and left without saying a word. He could hear her call after him in confusion, asking if he was alright. ‘Of course I’m not alright you dumb bitch,’ he seethed internally. Another voice, this one closer, called out to him.

“Mr. Daryl, Mr. Daryl, wait!”

He looked back. It was Sophia, galloping towards him with a piece of paper in her hand. 

“What the hell d’you want?”

Daryl’s roughness made her stop short. She stammered out “I just…I wanted to…here you go,” shoved the piece of paper in his hand and took off. He looked down at it and immediately regretted being so unkind to her. It was a crude drawing of him, holding what looked like it was supposed to be a crossbow, with a smaller yellow-haired figure by his side holding out a red heart. Above it was scrawled “Mr. Daryl is awesome!!!” He folded the picture and put it in his pocket. ‘Way to be an asshole to the only other person in camp that liked you.' Jesus, it was like the whole universe had decided that this was the day to fuck with him.

*******

As Glenn turned away from Shane, he caught a glimpse of Daryl stalking off. “Fuck.” He muttered under his breath. Even though Daryl was the reason he was in this mess, the younger man hoped to spare his feelings as much as he could. He couldn't go up to him and say “Oh hey Daryl, your brother threatened to beat the shit out of me or worse if I didn't stay away from you, I actually really like you and this is killing me because I hate having to stay away from you.” 

Hell, Merle had glared at him during breakfast when Daryl said good morning to him, and he didn't even do anything! Obviously, the bastard wasn't about to let up on his mission of making his life as shitty as possible. He felt miserable, and wanted nothing more than to run after Daryl, explain everything, hoping that the older man would believe him. After all, it wasn't his fault Merle was a raging racist, homophobic asshole.

*******

Knowing how much Glenn obviously loathed him was more painful than Daryl could have ever imagined. Once, when he was a kid, he'd cut his leg open while running through the woods. He hadn't noticed it until that night when he went to shower. The water opened it back up and it began to hurt so badly he'd cried like a baby. That was how his heart felt, cut open, scabby and stinging. But he wasn't gonna let it hurt him. He didn't need anyone after all. He'd gotten by just fine so far with just himself and his brother. Nobody could ever understand the shit he'd been through except Merle anyway.

That night, he sat quietly with Merle in front of their fire, shaving down a stick into an arrow shaft.

“Thought you had watch duty tonight.” Merle said.

Daryl shook his head. “Naw. It's the chinaman's turn. Only need one person per watch.”

If Daryl had been paying attention, he would have seen the knowing smirk on Merle's face when he said that. He was proud of his baby brother for finally getting back on the right track, and he was proud of himself for having taken care of that situation.

“That reminds me, I'm gonna be going into Atlanta tomorrow.”

Daryl looked up. “With who?”

“The black boy and his girlfriend, the chinaman, the spic, and that blonde bitch. Lemme tell ya, I think she wants it.” He grabbed his crotch, leering. “She looks like she needs a good fuck, dontcha think?”

Daryl shook his head. Merle had always been overly confident about his appeal to women. “Yeah, well watch out for yourself.”

“Don’t worry 'bout me, I know how to handle my shit.” Truth be told, he'd volunteered to go because he was hoping to corner Andrea someplace private. He figured if she protested, he'd just leave her for the walkers and that would be that. No one would be any the wiser, because accidents happen all the time, right? And if he couldn't get her, well, there was always Glenn. Given a choice, he'd prefer the bitch, but times were tough, and beggars can't be choosers. Besides, the chink looked like a woman if you squinted hard enough, so it'd be easy to pretend. He'd had to make do with that kind of thing in prison before, and it was easier than most people thought. Certainly didn't mean anything. A man has needs, and has to make do with what's available. It would teach the little punk-ass not to fuck with his family, that was for sure.

*******

Daryl was heading out to hunt as Merle and the rest were getting ready. The rest of the gang didn't look particularly thrilled that Merle was there. Glenn was standing off by the RV, looking extremely uncomfortable. He looked terrible, like he hadn't been sleeping well. Daryl felt a pang of worry for him. Even though Glenn had made it clear he didn't want to be around him, Daryl couldn't help but still feel tenderness for him, no matter how hard he tried not to. All it took was seeing his handsome face, and those feelings came bubbling back up to the surface.

He wished for a second he could just go over there, clap him on the back, and tell him to watch out, 'cause it was dangerous in Atlanta, and not to take any dumb shit Merle said to heart. But the voice inside his head, the one that sounded like Merle, told him that Glenn obviously didn't care about him, so why should he worry? It was useless to waste his time thinking about someone who found him so disgusting he couldn't bear to be around him for more than was necessary. The hunter headed into the woods, sadness and anger weighing heavy within his mind and scabbed up heart.

*******

Merle could not escape the smell of cooked meat. It was more present than the pain in his wrist. There was an itch in his hand, but he couldn't scratch it. There was no way to, because it was gone, left as a snack for the walkers on top of the building. 

As he slumped down against the wall next to the stove where he'd cauterized the bloody stump that was his wrist, he couldn't help but laugh. Apparently, the smell of burnt human flesh smelled just like barbecued pork ribs. “If only I had me some goddamn sauce,” he said aloud to the empty room, “I'd be a tasty fuckin' treat!”

His laughter turned into sobs. The smell did not go away. Neither did the itch. 

*******

As far as missions go, this one had been completely fucked. They'd gotten no supplies, lost Merle and brought back some guy who apparently was Lori's husband. Glenn didn't care too much about that part. What was worrying him was Daryl.

Seeing Daryl out of control and furious like a wounded animal, snarling that they'd killed his brother was like witnessing a nightmare. Glenn couldn't pretend to be sad for Merle's loss, but for Daryl's sake, he felt sorry. He knew he blamed him, that Rick guy and T-Dog. There was no way to tell him, especially not right now, that Merle had earned being handcuffed to the roof. When Daryl demanded that they go back for him, Glenn's guts twisted. He wasn't going to be able to rest until he went to Atlanta for his brother, and there was no way he was gonna let him do that alone. Daryl was good with his crossbow and tracking, but he'd never been there before on a mission. He didn't know how bad it was.

Daryl was nowhere to be found at dinner time. Glenn didn't say anything about it, but grabbed an extra plate of food, and, trying to ignore the shaking in his hands, went over to his tent. Daryl was hunched over in front of his tent, his eyes staring into space. He hadn't bothered to light a fire, even though it was getting darker with each passing minute.

Glenn cleared his throat. “I brought you some food.”

Daryl said nothing, and it looked as if he'd barely even registered that he was there.

Glenn carefully put the plate of food by his feet, afraid that he was going to lash out and strike him down. He didn't. He just kept staring out into space.

Not knowing what else to do, Glenn began to build a fire for him. He was no boy scout, but he'd picked up a couple things in the short time he'd been in camp with the others. There was a pile of kindling and logs near the tents, so he grabbed some, and then grabbed a couple of handfuls of dry leaves. He placed them and the kindling in the shallow pit that they'd dug when they first set up camp, and lit them with a match. Once they were burning, he placed a couple of bulkier pieces of wood on top. They caught fire and began to burn, casting light. It illuminated Daryl's face, and Glenn could barely stop himself from gasping at how haggard he looked. He sat across from him, trying to figure out what to say.

“I'm sorry about Merle.” That made Daryl look up. “I'm gonna talk to Rick...we should go back for him.” Glenn had no idea why he was even suggesting it. It was stupid. It was risky. But it was the only thing he could think of doing to make Daryl feel better.

“Why?” Daryl's voice sounded raspy, like he'd been screaming for hours.

“What?”

“Why the fuck are you here. You don't give a fuck about me, or Merle.”

Glenn blanched. “Daryl, I-”

“SHUT UP!” He grabbed the plate of food that was at his feet and threw it full force at Glenn. He barely ducked fast enough to avoid being struck by lukewarm stew. “You don't give a fuck, you've made that clear, alright? I don't want yer fuckin' pity you son of a bitch.”

“Daryl, please-”

“No! No! I don't wanna hear it. I know you ain't gonna do shit about this, so don't fuckin' patronize me. You don't know what it's like. Merle was all I had.” His voice began to shake. Glenn wanted so badly to reach out and take his hand, to soothe him in some way. Seeing him so wounded was horrifying.

“Merle was all I had.” His eyes shone wet in the firelight. “And you bastards left him to die on a fuckin' rooftop alone. I'm gonna go get him, and I don't give a shit what you assholes have to say about it.”

Glenn stood up. If this was the way it was gonna go, so be it. “We're going back for him. You're not gonna go alone. Even if it's just me, we're going to go back for your brother.” He said it with such conviction and seriousness that Daryl clammed up. Every fiber of his being screamed that this was the stupidest thing he'd ever said, but Glenn didn't care. Daryl needed this, and even though he thought his brother was a monster, Glenn wasn't about to let him suffer if there was something he could do about it. 

Daryl stared at him, not saying anything, his eyes still full of fury. Glenn placed his own plate of food in front of him, and looked him right in the eyes. “I don't care if you believe me or not, but I am sorry about Merle.” With that final word, he walked off, leaving Daryl alone. He had no idea how to convince the others to go back for someone who everyone hated, but it didn't matter. One way or another, he was going to help Daryl.

*******

It didn't take a whole lot of work to get the others to agree to go back. T-Dog felt guilty, and wanted to do what was right. Rick wanted the bag of guns he'd dropped by the tank. It went about as smoothly as Glenn figured it would: with him carrying a severed hand, getting kidnapped by nursing home attendants masquerading as gangsters, and finding the damn truck they'd driven into the city with gone. As they hiked back to camp, Glenn felt relieved though. Daryl looked less destroyed. Even though they'd found his brother's hand, he was convinced Merle had survived. Like Daryl said, Dixons were tough bastards. Glenn was inclined to believe him at this point. People like Merle had a habit of surviving even the worst shit and turning back up later like a bad penny.

The sun was setting when they reached the woods. Glenn was tired and starting slow down. He could see the distance between himself and the others growing by the minute. They couldn't afford to stop because once it got dark the risk of getting lost was very real. Not to mention the risk of being jumped by walkers. 'That would take the fucked up cake at this point,' Glenn thought, 'the perfect end to a perfect day.'

Daryl looked back and saw the younger man struggling. Sighing, he waited for him to catch up.

“You ok?”

“Oh yeah, I'm dandy. I gonna just pass out in a minute. You guys can just leave me wherever I fall, and I can just be buried there.” 

“Very funny. Give me that damn bag.”

Glenn didn't have to be told twice. He handed over the bag, and stretched. It wasn't that heavy, but it felt good not having to carry it. They walked side by side, trying to keep up with the other two.

“Thanks for saving me. Again. You're getting pretty good at saving my bacon.”

Daryl snorted. “Rick and T-Dog helped too.”

“Yeah, but I know you were pissed at me.”

Daryl stopped in his tracks. “The fuck is that supposed to mean?” 

“Um,” Glenn swallowed nervously, “just that...you know....I know you were angry about what happened to Merle and I figured you blamed me. I mean, if it was the other way around I dunno if I would've tried so hard to save me.”

“Wait, you thought just 'cause I was mad about Merle I was gonna let those guys keep you as a hostage?”

Daryl was giving him the kind of look you'd give to someone who's about to get their lights punched out. Glenn ran his hand across his forehead. Between this and the hike, he was sweating bullets. “I'm sorry. I'm real good at putting my foot in my mouth.”

“No shit.”

They walked in silence after that. By the time they got back to camp, Daryl felt irritated as fuck. He didn't like how Glenn was acting all chummy-like after a week of straight-up avoiding him. He had no idea what to make of it, and he was too tired to try and work it out in his head. All he wanted was to sleep, and then bury his brother's hand in the morning.

“Hold up!” He looked back to see Glenn hobbling over to his campsite as fast as he could bear.

“Whaddya want?”

“I just...” He took off his cap and ran his hand through his hair. Daryl knew he did that when he was feeling nervous. He'd recorded and cataloged that quirk, along with all the others he'd noticed, in his mind. “ I'm just...I'm sorry.”

Daryl blinked. The kid was confusing the fuck out of him. “Don't worry about it. Merle's out there somewhere, and if anyone can survive, it's him.”

“No, it's not that.”

“Well the fuck is it then?” He was too tired to keep himself from being snappy, his exasperation mounting. It pissed him off when the younger man would beat around the bush like this. Why the fuck couldn't he just come out and say what he needed to say?

Glenn blurted it out. “I'm sorry about not talking to you, and being rude to you, and for what you heard me tell Shane.”

“Jesus Christ.” Daryl was not in the mood for this kind of thing, and he didn't like feeling toyed with. “Will you make up your damn mind already! First you act like you hate my goddamn guts, now you're trying to be all nice, what the hell is going on?”

“It was Merle! He told me that if I didn't leave you alone he'd fuck me up.” Glenn winced, expecting Daryl to yell at him and tell him he didn't believe him.

Instead Daryl just stood there. The expression on his face was inscrutable. He dropped the bag, and laid his crossbow on it.

“Why the hell would he do that?” He sounded weirdly calm.

“I don't know, he's your brother. He said he didn't want trash like me hanging around you.”

Daryl sighed. Yep, that sounded like the kind of racist fuckshit Merle was known for alright. Hell, he remembered how once, when he was little, Merle had scared off one of the kids in their neighborhood from playing with him. He could remember how angry he'd been at Merle, because it didn't make any sense to him why he couldn't play action figures with another kid just because he was Black. When he made the mistake of complaining to his dad about it, he'd got a whuppin' and was told in no uncertain terms to never disrespect his brother like that. 

“I'm sorry he pulled that shit on you. Merle's always been kinda protective of me in a fucked up way.” Daryl toed the bag at his feet with his boot. “I thought you were mad at me for somethin'.” He couldn't look Glenn in the eye. He felt plum foolish, now that he knew the whole story.

“No! You didn't do anything. Well, besides call me names and all that.” Daryl got a guilty look on his face. “I never hated your guts, I just didn't want Merle to beat the shit out of me. I don't take beatings too well.”

Daryl was trying to play it cool, but inside he was jumping for joy. Knowing that Glenn didn't hate him made him feel incredibly happy. Scratching his head, he tried to think of something to say that would show the kid he wasn't sore about it.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it.” Goddamn it. It was moments like these when he wished he hadn’t dropped out of high school in the eleventh grade, and had gotten more book learning. The way he figured it, maybe if he had stuck with school he’d be better with words.

“Ok.” Glenn hesitated for a moment, stepped forwards and hugged the older man. It was risky, but he wanted to do it, to show the older man that he didn't hold anything that had happened against him. Daryl stiffened in the embrace, not sure if he should hug back, and if he did, if he'd be able to stop himself from doing more. Gently squeezing his shoulders, Glenn let him go. “Goodnight.”

Daryl just nodded, feeling slightly stupefied from the brief embrace. Those skinny arms around him had felt so warm, and even finer than in the many daydreams he'd thought up about the two of them. He watched him walk away, his thin frame slightly clumsy from exhaustion. Daryl wished he had the courage to run after him, to scoop him up in his arms, and to hug him properly, the way he really wanted to. Holding him close and nuzzling his face into his neck. Daryl hoped that tomorrow, if he was really lucky, Glenn would hug him again. He'd hug back if he did, and show the kid that he wasn't a total awkward idiot, and that he was nothing like his brother. He'd show him he could be a better man.

As he laid in his tent, he mulled it over. He'd become a better man, yeah. First he'd apologize to T-Dog. He wasn't a bad guy, and what happened wasn't his fault. Merle had always said you can't trust Black people, but that was bullshit. What the fuck did race have to do with trustworthiness anyways? “I ain't my brother,” he murmured in the dark. Damn right he wasn't Merle, and didn't have to follow his example. Then he'd have to apologize to Sophia. He still felt bad about scaring her like he had, she was a good kid and didn't need anyone acting like an asshole to her. It was bad enough her dad was an abusive fuckhead. He looked over at the drawing she'd made him, which he'd pinned to one of the sides of the tent. 'Mr. Daryl is awesome!!!' Well, it was a tall order to live up to, but he'd have to try. Maybe, if he tried hard enough, Glenn would...

He buried his head in his sleeping bag. 'Don't get carried away now, remember you've been a bastard to him so far. Yer gonna have to work hard at this.' 

'I know.' Sleep was closing in on his mind. 'I know, but I can do it. I'm gonna do it. I'm gonna show Glenn I'm a good man.'

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from the Manic Street Preachers song of the same name.


End file.
